Femme Fatale
by Zephyrus14
Summary: Dan Scott is dead, leaving his only son, Lucas, to take over Scott Enterprises. Lucas has lived in his father's shadow his entire life and has no idea how to run the business. He has been thrust into a deceptive world wondering who exactly, he can trust.
1. When I Get You Alone

**I know, I know. The last thing I should be doing is starting a new story, but I really couldn't help it. This idea has been in my head for so long. Frankly, I was so excited that I wrote this chapter in an hour. I promise that I'll update my other stories, however. I already wrote a substantial amount for "Harder to Breathe" and "Agape". **

**Anyways, I hope this story is well-received, so please review. I practically live off those things.**

* * *

As soon as Lucas exited the mansion, the cool brisk air hit his face. Several bodyguards escorted him to a town car, in which his mother was awaiting.

He opened the door and got in.

"It's about time, Lucas. We're late for the funeral." She looked at her Cartier watch anxiously.

"I'm sorry mother. I had something I had to take care of," he apologized.

"I don't care for excuses," she said, "You know that very well."

"Sorry," he replied lamely. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes tightly in frustration.

His mother was as detached a person as humanly possible. His father was the same way. Dan Scott never felt the need to stay at home. He spent a larger part of his life building a multinational conglomerate. Karen Scott was always away tending to her critically acclaimed restaurants. Her wineries held her attention longer than Lucas could.

A walk through the Scott mansion was enough to assure anyone of the luxuries the family could afford. It had more amenities than one could possibly hope for, yet it did nothing to relieve the irking feeling of detachment. Lucas lived there his entire life. He was raised by nannies that could care less about his well-being. And when he was of age, his parents shipped him off to the prestigious Institut Le Rosey.

One would imagine that the lack of parental figures would solidify Lucas' independence, but truth be told, he was a bit of a lame child. He tried his best to make his parents proud of him. However, his ability was limited and he only exceeded in English. Dan Scott didn't think much of it. According to him, it was a lame subject and an impractical one at that. He complained that Lucas would only work a second-rate job as a teacher if he pursued English. No son of his was going to work as a teacher.

Dan bought Lucas' way into college as a legacy student. He graduated seventh in class at Oxford, majoring in business. The degree was of no use to him, however. At first, his father had thrown a celebratory party at the New York building to make each and every one of his employees aware of his son's graduation. He was placed in an office for which several junior associates were in line. His position was mainly titular. Dan was quick to ban all of Lucas' ideas. He sat in meetings staring at the walls or playing games on his phone. He knew better than to open his mouth when one of the senior advisors would pitch an overbearingly conservative idea. It annoyed him to no end that the company wouldn't adopt new ideologies, but his self confidence was virtually non-existent; he wouldn't stand up to those men.

When he walked down the halls of offices, he would hear accusing whispers. They complained, mostly about how he entered with a six-figure starting salary and no experience to show, then some about his lack of a workload. None of these comments affected him. He was still sincerely kind to his colleagues.

If this was Dan Scott's way of caring, his mother paled in comparison. She was always jet packing her way throughout Europe, in search of lucrative business opportunities. Her restaurants were so highly-regarded in fact that she was solely responsible for the respective sector within Scott Enterprises. She was stuck in a loveless marriage with a child she did not want. Once in a while she would be asked to portray the role of a trophy wife on some superficial magazine, to which she would happily comply. Anything to advance the career right?

"What are you wearing Lucas?"

"Why does it matter?"

"The presses. This family fell apart before it even started, but image is everything."

"I think Gates said something about Prada," he answered uninterestedly.

The car came to a stop.

Karen produced a tiny bottle and tilted her head back.

"What are you doing?" Lucas inquired.

"Tears," she responded while putting the bottle away, "Remember Lucas, image."

* * *

Many of the business associates made appearances at Dan's funeral. They all gave eulogies, none of which were the least bit sincere.

Lucas learned at a very young age that his efforts to please either of his parents were in vain. His feelings regarding his father were of pure apathy. He could say that he once loved the man as a father, but he wasn't even sure of that.

"Your father was a great man," an elderly man said as he patted Lucas on the back, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Lucas gave him the same reply he had given everyone that sought to give their condolences: "Thank you." As insensitive as his mother had been, he couldn't do much better. He could lie and reciprocate the feelings of admiration so obnoxiously present among the crowds of people. If anything, he would only be disrespecting his deceased father.

The turnout was surprising. Dan Scott was a well-respected man, but not a well-liked one. He had gained quite a reputation as a _nouveau riche_. The firmly rooted aristocrats that had looked down on him had now found themselves at his mercy. They hated Dan as far as Lucas was concerned.

"You have some big shoes to fill," another man said, "I'm deeply sorry."

He smiled politely and nodded his head. The more he walked, the more people showed up, offering condolences.

"I would highly recommend Johnnie Walker in these situations. Blue of course."

This comment caught Lucas' attention. No one thus far had the audacity to make such a comment. Everything had been so impersonal and insincere; that is, up until this point. Lucas found it surprisingly comforting.

"I'm more of a Macallan man." He smiled.

The woman stuck her hand out. "Brooke Davis."

"Lucas Scott." He shook her hand. "How do you know my father?"

"He was a good friend of my father's."

"Really? Who's your father?"

"Richard Davis, he was on the board when the company first went public. He was there a long time ago, you wouldn't remember him."

"I'm afraid I haven't heard of him before."

She smiled. "So, how about that drink?"

Before he could respond, his phone rang. He smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I have to take this."

After several minutes, he ended the call and refocused his attention on Brooke. "I'm sorry. I have to go."

"It's alright. It was pleasure to meet you Lucas."

"Pleasures all mine." He turned to walk away as did Brooke. "Uhh, wait…"

Brooke stopped and turned to look at him curiously.

"I'm probably going to be busy for the next week or so, but once everything clears up, maybe we could have that drink?"

"Great." Her dimples were in full-view.

"Great," Lucas repeated.

* * *

"Did you properly introduce yourself?" asked the man.

The brunette beauty got herself situated before responding. "I did. He doesn't suspect a thing."

"Good. Step one is in place."

* * *

**Like it? Hate it? That blue link underneath is dying to be clicked on either way. Let me know what I can do.**


	2. Aurora

**I'd like to think that my first chapter was relatively successful, but I'm definitely not going to let it go to my head. So to clear things up a bit, I got stuck with a schedule full of teachers that give insane amounts of work. That means I can't make any promises as to when I update, but I'll try my best. Your second chapter:

* * *

****Four days earlier**

"I brought the papers you needed to sign" the brunette haired man said as he lifted the folder into view.

"I brought my lawyer if you don't mind," the middle aged man moved on to reassure, "It's not that I don't trust you, because I really don't. I just thought it would be better if my lawyer worked out the actual kinks; you know, make sure I'm not signing anything I don't want to."

He smiled understandingly at the man. "Of course."

The lawyer spent a great deal of time looking over the pages. He would raise his glasses every now and then. While the brunette maintained a hard stare, the other man would glance up rather frequently.

After he was done inspecting the document, he leaned over to his boss and whispered a few words.

"My lawyer says the document is fine. It's a shame your client had to sell such a beautiful building."

"The only shame would be if there were no buyers. I'm very glad you were so eager to buy it."

The man nodded almost condescendingly.

The brunette man pointed to different areas on the page with a pen. "Just sign here and here."

The man standing opposite did as he was told and sighed contently as he put down the pen.

The two shook hands as Brooke stood quietly in the background.

"Great. The building will be listed under your name in the next week, but as far as I'm concerned, this building is all yours sir. Congratulations."

"It was a pleasure doing business with you," he responded. He walked towards Brooke. "Now that this business deal is over, maybe we can finally go out for dinner."

She smiled back at him. "Maybe," she said coyly.

Brooke's partner cleared his throat. "I'm afraid we have another client we have to get to, but we'll keep it touch." He grabbed Brooke's hand and led her out the door quickly. All they could hear was a "Call me" in the distance.

* * *

The two were already in the car, moving onto their next destination. They were always on the go. It was the price they had to pay for what they did.

"Nathan, slow down."

He eased his foot off the clutch, released his grip on the gear stick, and loosened his tie. "Sorry about that."

Brooke put her hand over his and stared into his eyes. "You know I would never have taken him up on that offer right?"

"Yea, I know. I just couldn't stand the sight of him hitting on you like that. For Christ's sake, he's old enough to be your father."

"Well, thankfully for us, age can't bring you wisdom," she said.

Nathan smiled at this. "We did pretty well."

She reciprocated the smile. "Yea, we did. This took what? Two months?"

"Two months and three days. Not that I was counting."

Brooke laughed. "Yea you were. You hated him. He hit on me every chance he got."

"By this time next week, he's going to find out that he paid ten million dollars for stack of fake documents."

"And we're going to be ten million dollars richer," she said, "Nathan, have you ever thought about we would do with this money? I mean we have almost fifteen million dollars in offshore accounts. Isn't it enough?"

"Do you remember why we did this in the first place?" He was met with silence.

**Flashback**

"_How much do we have left?"_

"_Two hundred. The rent took away most of it."_

"_Damn it. We don't have enough to pay our bills."_

"_Maybe we could both get second jobs."_

"_No, Brooke. We work hard enough as it is. Besides, no one is this god forsaken town ever wants to hire. There are more poor people in this place than there are jobs."_

_She threw her hands up in frustration. "We come short every single month. Last month we got running water, but our electricity was cut. What's it going to be this month?" She broke down in tears. _

_Nathan kneeled down and wrapped a comforting arm around her. "I'm sure we'll find a way to come up with money."_

"_How? We work all the time, but we have nothing saved. We're both tired. I don't how much of this I can take."_

"_Hey," he cupped her cheek, "I promise you, I'll find a way to settle this."_

**End Flashback

* * *

**

At first, it started small. Brooke would pretend to flirt shamelessly with unsuspecting wealthy men. Nathan would lift their wallets and take anything of value. By the time any of them caught on, they were already gone. It wasn't as if a couple missing hundreds would matter to them anyway.

After the Crisis had hit the States, New York City was left in financial ruin. The crash pulled everything down with it. Almost everyone turned up at the welfare offices, but the lines were often so long, many were turned away. In fact, one had a better chance of surviving by not working at all. When people discovered this, they resorted to stealing from others. The officers' payrolls were frozen and there wasn't much they could do without risking their lives. They had families to feed and their deaths in the increasingly dangerous world wouldn't do much to help their dire situations.

The relatively unaffected areas were Gramercy, Park, Fifth, and the larger part of Central Park. If there was a depression, the upper class wouldn't know of it. The elite bought their way through the system and were responsible for the corruption.

No one was willing to stand up to them. They were the ones that signed their paychecks. A single protest and one could find oneself blacklisted and living in a cardboard box around the corner.

Nathan and Brooke made more money off pick pocketing than they made in two weeks of working. As their successes increased, Nathan became bolder. He would orchestrate schemes that would cheat the rich out of thousands. It was still relatively small, but it provided sustenance. Once the two had dedicated themselves to the act, they lived it. They left their apartment and would run their schemes from an abandoned factory. They bought another apartment, a much nicer one, under an alias: Grant Marcel.

It also allowed them to take liberties with their spending. Nathan would set aside a considerable amount of money for himself. He would subject himself to cons, fully aware and prepared. Once he was "duped" he wouldn't think much of the money he gave away, but more of the trade secrets he had gained.

He had promised both Brooke and himself that once they got back on their feet and could live comfortably in the coming years, they would stop, maybe move somewhere nice. As time progressed, however, Nathan found himself getting a certain high. He didn't care about the number of cons he could run; no, he would assess the level of difficulty of each of the schemes and as soon as he did, he would devote all his time to one scheme, the grand scheme.

When the two came under heat, they would leave. They ran cons in D.C., Miami, Los Angeles, all the major cities. They never once considered going international. Nathan once said, "When we piss off those goddamn Europeans, that's when they'll **really** start to look for us." It worked quite well. The reason they were never caught was because of Nathan's one stroke of pure genius: simplicity. The schemes were too simple. No one ever suspected them. No matter how complex things seemed, everything would come full-circle. That was exactly how leads were ended before they even started.

"I want us to live comfortably Brooke."

"Fifteen million dollars is more than enough to live comfortably."

He shook his head. "Remember our dreams when we were back in Tree Hill? We sat there on the beach holding each other's hands. I said that one day we were going to escape everything and live on an island where nothing could touch us. No more problems, no more questions. Just us."

Brooke stared dreamily at the dashboard. "We'd live out the rest of our days on that island. We'd grow old together."

He looked over. "Exactly. Which is why I already prepared our next mark. The dossier is in the suitcase underneath your seat."

She bent over and pulled out the exact item Nathan had described. She opened the suitcase and produced a manila folder containing several papers.

"Lucas Scott," she read, "Son of Dan Scott, the owner of Scott Enterprises."

"Dan Scott died a week ago. The funeral is set to go on in four days," he added.

"Scott Jr. went to boarding school in Gstaad, graduated from Oxford, and works in a high-level position. He has quite an impressive résumé."

Nathan rolled his eyes. "Turn to the next page."

"Ohh," she realized, "Not so impressive anymore."

He laughed. "That rich boy has relied on his father since he was born. No one takes him seriously."

"So once the will is read and he takes over the company, the stockholders will pull out," she articulated, "They don't trust someone like Lucas to run the company."

"As soon as he takes over, you're going to be his advisor. He'll be the one with the title, but you're the one that controls everything behind the scenes. He gets to look worthy while you bring the company back from the ruins."

"What about his mother?"

"She's gone for business most of the time. When she's not, she's looking after her sector. Frankly, I don't think we need that sector of Scott Enterprises, so as soon as we gain control, we'll cut it loose. She may be a great restaurateur, but she's nothing without the company's funding."

"Where does that leave you?"

"I'll play the role of the lawyer. Once you get him to trust you, you'll bring me into his circle of friends."

"This is all very nice, but how exactly are we going to get the company?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"I would love to play this one simple, Brooke, I really do. As much as I hate to ask this of you, you're going to marry him. If we can get him to change his will before then, all the better. Once I draw up the papers with a real lawyer…" he trailed off.

"Once you draw up the papers what?"

"We'll kill him."

* * *

**There's only one word really left to say: REVIEW!**


	3. I've Just Begun Having My Fun

**Going for two. If I'm lucky, I should get a few chapters up for my other stories. I actually wrote this one a long time ago and didn't realize I had a chapter until now. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Lucas made his way down the staircase of the mansion, late for his first day of work. He looked rather dapper in his charcoal gray Versace suit and as usual, donned a black matte tie clip clutched to the meticulously tied half-Windsor.

His grandfather had given it to him, thought it was better served with Lucas than it was with Dan. Royal Scott was a businessman like Dan, but placed his efforts in using his wealth for the "greater good". He wasn't particularly rich, not that he particularly cared either. In Dan Scott's younger years, Royal had recognized the fierce competitiveness in his son's eyes. He also recognized how dangerous it was. His son's ambitions knew no bounds and he had no care for the welfare of others. When Dan bore a son of his own, Royal had long since retired. Thus, he and his wife were entrusted to look after the young boy as Dan built his empire. He had taken to notice, the boy with a heart of gold, who found greater solace in times with the golden lab of the family than he did amongst the rich boys at the frequent soirees. As a coming of age gift, the black matte tie clip was slipped slowly from Royal's hands into that of Lucas'.

Royal had a word engraved on the back of the clip, one which was in true opposition to his nature.

Lucas' mother was seated stoically at the dining table. She had her customary _New York Times_ in her hand and her face hidden from her son's line of sight.

"You're late," she chastised.

He looked up guiltily from his cup of coffee. "I was paying attention to my appearance, like you asked of me."

She folded her newspaper and placed it neatly on the mahogany table. "We want them to think you're fashionable, not gay."

He did nothing to mask his frustrations as he slammed the cup rashly. "I should head out. Don't want to be later than I already am, _mother_."

* * *

"And this is your office."

Lucas entered the giant room while his secretary led him ahead. The desk was set dead in the middle of the room. The entire wall behind it was replaced with a massive window, allowing steady streams of sunlight to pass through. To his left, hung a priceless Aivazovsky painting: _"Battle of Chesma"_. To his right was a perfectly set up bar. A patent leather couch faced a 55-inch LED. An exorbitantly priced decanter was filled with what was without a doubt, the best scotch in the world. Dan Scott was never one to do something half-assed.

"If you need anything Mr. Scott, I will be outside." She began walking out.

"Hold on. What happened to my father's belongings?"

She turned around. "Mrs. Scott instructed that we pack everything and send it to the mansion." She took a quick glimpse at the time-keeping band on her wrist. "The boxes should be arriving just about now."

He nodded and walked up the steps, toward the window. This was what it was like to be on the top of the world. One thing was for sure; it felt awfully lonely at the top.

* * *

First order of business? Look through countless files, detailing old mergers and acquisitions. The board clearly didn't trust him; they had him read useless files. They probably made sure that a useful one would never grace his touch. He knew he wasn't as useless as everyone made him out to be. His first attempts at ambition were quickly shot down to nothing but a pulp. No one could blame the man for having no confidence.

He took off the clip, running his hand through the indentations on the back and quickly slipped it back into his pocket.

He removed the jacket that clung to the large leather chair, refitting it against his own body. Just as he was about to step out, the doors flung open to reveal the brunette that had been running across the tracks of his mind since their last meeting.

"Going somewhere?"

"Brooke Davis, right?" he asked, tapping his index finger against the side of his head.

"Good memory. And if it serves **you** correctly, you owe me a drink."

Lucas glanced down at his watch. "Yea, I suppose I do. Uhh, does scotch sound okay?"

She frowned. "I don't want to impose on your time. If you don't want to have a drink, I can just go." She turned to leave.

He took hold of her wrist. "Wait. I want to have this drink. Yea, we should have this drink," he finalized nervously.

"You sure? You don't look very sure."

"No, I'm sure," he walked over to the minibar, "Scotch okay for you?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Fine. So how's the life of a big corporate executive who has an office bigger than the Four Seasons penthouse?"

He chuckled. "Boring. Haven't been doing much… not for lack of trying though. Long story short, I'm pretty much stuck here for the rest of the day even though I have nothing to do." He took two lowballs and filled it with the liquid.

She took the glass and raised an eyebrow. "It's your company," she said before she took a sip.

"Only in name. They're not afraid of me like they were my father," he explicated, "Sorry, I must be boring you."

"Maybe a little. I can't imagine living your life."

"Oh yea? Why's that?"

"Everything seems so well put. I mean, nothing is this perfect. On top of it all, everyone seems to have an agenda."

He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head in confusion. "Do you?"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out."

His response was stopped by a ringing of his Blackberry. "Excuse me." His eyes glanced over the letters on the screen before he shoved the device back into the inside compartment of his jacket.

"For someone who doesn't have anything to do, there sure seems to be many in search for a moment of your time."

She saw the look of hesitation marked upon his face. "I don't. It's just this stupid thing that happens every Friday. You know what? I'm going to ignore it. So where were we?"

"Don't stop on my account. What's this stupid thing you were talking about?"

He contemplated whether he should tell her. "Just a poker game with a couple of guys on the trading floor. I usually lose, but it's fun."

"Sounds like it. What's the buy in?"

Surprise predictably touched his eyes. "The guys are pretty rough, I don't know if you-"

"Believe me, I'm up for it. If you're scared that I'll beat you, just say so."

"I have a better idea."

* * *

They were greeted by a bar in an obscure place. The neon sign spelt "Open" was blinking, save for the "p". It was an old Irish bar with a few drunks hanging around the entrance.

There was a bouncer, who quickly allowed Lucas in after the two exchanged knowing nods. Lucas had placed his hand on the small of her back and ushered her in gently.

She was used to this scene. She used to drink in these bars with Nathan when they could produce a couple of bucks to spare. She used to spend enough time in these bars to know that Lucas wasn't the type of person to frequent these bars.

The poker table was situated in the back of the bar, behind curtains. The room was lit by a single light above the table. Shots were littered around the rim just as the corporate yuppies were. Their obnoxious laughter ceased at the sight of Brooke.

"Well, well, well. What is someone as gorgeous as you doing with a loser like Scott?"

It was Brooke who spoke up. "Lucas told me about the poker game and I thought it was about time to show you guys how to play."

The same man, who clearly seemed to be the leader of the pack, scoffed. "Scott, you didn't have enough balls to lose so you sent a woman to do it for you?"

Lucas ignored him and pulled out the chair for Brooke before taking a seat next to her.

"And here I was, thinking chivalry was dead. Thanks handsome," she said before planting a chaste kiss on his side of his mouth. A smile immediately made its way onto his face. She could gamble away his entire fortune and he wouldn't give it a second thought.

* * *

Justin, so the man was named, laughed as he collected his winnings. "Sweetheart, it seems like you're down to your last two hundred. Small blind's one-fifty. I thought you were going to teach me how to play poker, Princess." The others laughed along with him, but one wouldn't know whether it was out of fear.

She sighed rather dramatically and frowned. "Oh, well. Lucas, can I speak to you for a second?" He nodded confusedly. "Excuse us."

She dragged him a few feet away from the table; not too far, but not close enough for them to hear. "I'm sure you're worried about me losing close to five thousand dollars in an hour."

He shrugged. "Not really. The deal was that I pay for your buy-in at the table and watch you play, no input or complaints. In return, I get to have another drink with you."

She tried desperately not to smile. Lucas still had an innocent air about him, one that she had since lost. It was a luxury she couldn't afford and the fact that he retained it in his twenty-six years allowed her an appreciation. "To be honest, it was an act. If I actually played, I would be sending your friends home within the hour. The good thing, though, is your friends think I _suck_ at this game."

"Which means they'll go easy on you… Should I be concerned for my well-being?"

She smiled coyly. "Maybe. I wouldn't trust myself sometimes." They took their respective places at the table and continued the game.

"I wouldn't take poker advice from Scott, but seeing as you're losing anyway, it wouldn't matter. Don't worry honey, we'll go easy on you this round."

True to their word, they all folded. This put her up a couple hundred.

And it continued for the next few rounds until she had successfully gained back the money she had lost. Cut to the end of the game, the corners of her mouth turned up as far as they possibly could while the men's faces turned tomato red.

Justin slammed his hand on the table, practically jumped out of his seat, and casted an accusing finger in Brooke's direction. "You fucking hustled us. I want my money back."

Brooke shrugged her shoulders in mock innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about. I did say I knew how to play, but you chose not to believe me. Here's a hundred to get you home safely." Sensing the growing tension in the room, she grabbed Lucas' hand and ran out.

Once outside, she turned and leaned against the wall of the bar. She let out a laugh before she could fully catch her breath.

Lucas stared at her in amusement. The alleyway next to the bar had terrible lighting. It was dim and unflattering in most cases; in Brooke's, it only served to accentuate her thousand-watt smile and the curl that made its way onto her face. No one was able to look _that_ perfect without trying; it was just not possible!

After the high died down, she tried catching the breaths that she missed and he only smiled. "It's late. We should get you back home."

She happily complied, following his lead. He held open the door once they reached his limo.

"Here's the money, along with the winnings."

"Keep it. You won the money."

"Yea… with your money." She chuckled.

"Keep it. You know what? Forget the drink. Is it okay if I take you out on an actual date?"

"That's hardly fair."

"For who?"

* * *

"This is me." She hesitated for a moment.

He nodded. "Let me walk you to your door." He got out and opened the door for her. She took his hand gratefully.

Neither of them found need to disrupt the silence as they approached her door. It was a thing of the movies: guy walks girl to her door, they both knowingly wait for the fateful moment as they walk up the stairs, they hesitate as the girl smiles flirtatiously. The moment after depends on the choice of chick flick. There may be an awkward kiss where the two bump heads a few times. It may not be awkward at all.

And so, Brooke and Lucas found themselves at the top of the stairs; she playing with her keys and he looking at the ground.

"So…"

"So."

"I had a great time today, despite the earlier debacle at work. I really hope I can see you again."

"One poker game and we're already on the next date?" she teased.

He stuttered, struggling to find the words to say. "Uhh…"

"Relax, I was just messing with you. But for the record, I had a great time too. I should warn you though; I'm not a cheap date."

The corners of his mouth quickly turned upward. "That's not a problem. So I'll see you… sometime." He turned to leave although he wanted nothing more at that moment than to taste what undoubtedly would be the sweetness graced upon her lips.

Brooke had obviously sensed this; she brought a hand to his face, turning it towards her. She tiptoed slightly while pulling his head down and in a matter of seconds, her lips found his. There were no fireworks or confetti like the movies say. No, what they don't say is that one kiss with the right person could make one feel unbelievable warmth and the overwhelming urge to close a space that existed no longer. It's not quite as dramatic as they say, but it can send one into a fit of fist-pumps that could rival those of the Jersey Shore crew.

The kiss sent them into such oblivion that neither of them noticed the pair of eyes watching from above.


End file.
